


Death is Not an Escape

by JacksonTheBoi



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Dead by Daylight - Freeform, Dead by Daylight Overwatch crossover, Graphic, Hillbilly, M/M, Overwatch - Freeform, Reaper76 - Freeform, Violent, r76
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacksonTheBoi/pseuds/JacksonTheBoi
Summary: All fighters, all members of a well-known peacekeeping organization known as Overwatch, all knocking at death's door. They must fight harder than they ever had to stay alive, and there's a vicious reminder when they feel hopeless- when they want to give up; death is not an escape.





	Death is Not an Escape

He smells corn. Not the cooked, salted and buttered corn that is eaten on a warm summer’s night, or grilled for a party and shared as a pleasant meal. No, Jack smells corn. Corn still planted firmly in the ground- almost ready to be harvested, but a few more days, maybe, are needed. He’s familiar with the smell- had grown up with it and had smelt it every single day until he was 19 when he joined the military. So Jack, now in his mid-thirties, was confused when he woke up to the smell of corn. The second thing that he had noticed was the fact that he was laying in the dirt. Arms spread out, and his blue duster still around his shoulders, Jack can’t remember what he had been doing before this. He remembers Gabriel- remembers a fight, maybe. He could be wrong- but they were always fighting nowadays. His throat is dry- like he’s just run a marathon and hasn’t gotten something to drink. It itches. 

After lying there with his eyes closed for a minute or so, Jack finally finds it in himself to sit up properly and open his eyes. He’s met with corn (but he’d been expecting that). Lots, and lots of corn and stretched across his vision until he was sure that he was back in Indiana laying in the corn like he had done when he was younger. Jack let himself believe for a moment that the whole ordeal with the army- being Strike-Commander, was just a dream. He was back at the farm, now, and he was going to go help his mother make dinner and his father would slap him on the back and remind him it was time for him to find a wife. If only he knew. But Jack knows it’s a lie, and he knows that the more likely answer to the questions spinning in his head as to why he’s laying in the middle of a cornfield is that he’s been kidnapped and drugged. The thought alone makes him flinch, but it’s the only reasonable explanation as to how he’s ended up in a cornfield with a dry throat and no recollection of where or what he had been doing before. Drugged. The idea doesn’t seem too far fetched. Lots of people want him dead- want to make an example out of him. It could be Talon, or an angry member of the public, or a double agent that Jack had somehow missed when he had carefully and closely gone through the list of all of his agents to find a mole somewhere, upon the UN’s persistence that there was indeed a mole. But Jack had never found one, and maybe this was the punishment for it. 

He stands slowly, head aching and head swimming, and he just stands there for a moment, getting himself together, and he doesn’t take a step until he’s sure that he isn’t going to fall over. The corn, he realizes, is ready for harvest. But the farm itself is silent, and it’s dark out. Upon further investigation, Jack can tell that most of the corn is rotted- well past its date and some of it looks like it had never grown to begin with. Almost like it had been night here for more than 12 hours at a time. But the idea doesn’t make any sense, so Jack dismisses the thought almost as quickly as it had come, and he takes a few steps into the rotted cornfield. The commander only has to walk a couple of feet before he finds an odd machine in the middle of all the corn. It’s old looking- a generator, Jack’s mind provides when he sees the light at the top of the machine. Something nags at him- tells him that this thing is important- that he needs to fix it. So Jack bends down, eyebrows furrowed, and a frown tilting at his lips as he tugs on the machine. He pulls a cord- and then his other hand reaches inside to tug at another cord, and all of a sudden the machine makes a soft noise and hums to life. The light at the top, Jack notices, isn’t lit, and something tells him he will have to stay here to make sure that it does, eventually light up. So Jack settles himself on his knees and gets to work on the generator. 

He isn’t one hundred percent sure how long he kneels in front of that machine, mindlessly trying to repair it even though he wasn’t even certain if he was doing it properly. Sometimes the machine would yank hard at him, and Jack would have to pull the cord fast, or the machine would stop for a second and make a loud bang. He wanted to avoid the noise as much as possible, and it didn’t take him long to figure out when the machine would get temperamental and Jack would yank hard to keep it working properly. He’s almost finished though- he can feel it in the way the machine gets louder- speeds up and the light at the top of the generator begins to flicker softly. But then something changes, and all of a sudden Jack is afraid. There’s a loud, booming heartbeat in his ears- he can’t tell if it’s his own, but it must be because there’s nobody else around. He’s almost finished, though, and he’s been here for an hour on his knees working on the damn thing, so he was going to finish it. 

The heartbeat was louder now, more intense and faster and Jack opts to ignore it, his focus entirely on the generator in front of him. Almost finished. There are beads of sweat on Jack’s forehead as he fights the overwhelming urge to run away. Get as far from whatever the hell is making his heart smash against his chest. There’s a satisfied whirring noise that the generator makes before it lights up and there's a happy chime. Jack can barely hear it over the heartbeat, though, and when he stands, satisfied with his job, he comes face to face with a man who looks more like a monster. 

The man (monster?) stands tall, at least 7 feet, and his back crooked, and the flesh on his face seems to have melted and slid down one side. Jack has seen a lot of things, and a lot of injuries in his time, but this . . . this is something else entirely. He barely has time to notice the chainsaw the man is carrying in one hand, and what seems to be a hammer in the other. He decides not to take any chances and stumbles as he starts to run. 

Jack is not slow by any means; he’s quick and agile, and it’s one of the reasons he had excelled in the Soldier Enhancement Program. Running came naturally to him, and yet this-this thing was faster than him, much faster. It’s almost immediate that the monster is back on him, and Jack barely glances back when he hears a whoosh of the large hammer swinging down against his back, and the commander lets out a cry of pain. But it isn’t...right. It isn’t the sort of pain that he is supposed to feel. Instead of collapsing (which one should do; with the amount of power the hammer had been swung at his spine, Jack knew he should have been out of the fight for good) he feels the pain spread across his body, almost evenly, and a kick of adrenaline has him all but stumbling forward and out of reach as the monster goes in for another swing. His body aches as he runs, but Jack finds that he doesn’t have trouble keeping up his speed (though he most definitely should), and as soon as he breaks line of sight from the monster, Jack is ducking behind a bolder, slamming a hand over his mouth to quiet the groans that seem to fall from his lips despite how hard he tries to shut himself up.

The heartbeat is nonexistent for a moment- and Jack relaxes, shoulders slumping as he tilts his head back against the rock. The adrenaline is quickly fading, leaving Jack exhausted and in pain, but at least he isn’t dead. He waits a few moments, just to be sure that he is alone, before he shifts and pulls himself out from his hiding spot. It’s only then that he hears the heartbeat again, louder than before, and he hears the whirring of a chainsaw behind him, and Jack lets out a scream that seems to shake the fields as it slices into his back and he collapses against the ground. He’s in too much pain to realize that the injury isn’t really there- just the pain, the incapacity to do anything. 

The monster heaves Jack up onto his shoulder, and the man lets out a grunt before he’s squirming, fighting against the giant man because his life very much depends on it. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as soon as Jack feels the monster start to lose his grip- Jack feels a sharp, agonizing pain pierce through his chest, and he lets out a yell of utter shock, hands shaking as he reaches up to touch what is most definitely a fucking rusted hood, in his chest. And then the monster seems to give him one last look before striding off- away to kill someone else, Jack is certain. 

Something tells him not to struggle. Something tells him that he isn’t alone out here.

**Author's Note:**

> More to come. Next chapter features one Gabriel Reyes.


End file.
